were going "up country," he shook his head with an assumption of great
filial devotion and said that he did not think his mother would let him go.
Another was afraid the sun might be too hot. Finally on the eve of our
departure we engaged a stuttering Chinese who assured us that he was a
remarkable cook and exceptionally honest.

If you have never heard a Chinaman stutter you have something to live for,
and although we discovered that our cook was a shameless rascal he was
worth all he extracted in "squeeze," for whenever he attempted to utter a
word we became almost hysterical. He sounded exactly like a worn-out
phonograph record buzzing on a single note, and when he finally did manage
to articulate, his "pidgin" English in itself was screamingly funny.

One day he came to the _sampan_ proudly displaying a piece of beef and,
after a series of vocal gymnastics, eventually succeeded in shouting:
"Missie, this meat no belong die-cow. Die-cow not so handsome." Which meant
that this particular piece of beef was not from an animal which had died
from disease.

The first stage of our trip began before daylight. We rode in four-man
sedan chairs, followed by a long procession of heavily laden coolies with
our cameras, duffle-sacks, and pack baskets. The road lay through green
rice fields between terraced mountains, and we jogged along first on the
crest of a hill, then in the valley, passing dilapidated temples with the
paint flaking off and picturesque little huts half hidden in the reeds of
the winding river. It was a relief to get into the country again after
passing down the narrow village streets and to breathe fresh air perfumed
with honeysuckle.

A passenger launch makes the trip to Cui-kau at the beginning of the